Lightening Crashes
by Lucifer's Garden
Summary: United by the same fear, Jayne and River decide that they are tired of being scared. Time to face the storm. River and Jayne friendship fic, one shot, T for mild language


**Firefly and everything affiliated with it belongs to Joss Whedon, the show's creator. **Yet again, more Firefly stuff. Sorry to the people who are waiting for another chapter of _ASoB_, I promise you it's well on its way to being finished. It's just that this idea hit me out of nowhere and I had no choice but to get it all down. YOU KNOW HOW IT IS WITH ME AND RANDOM IDEAS.

What could it be? Why, another Jayne and River one-shot, of course! I apologize if Jayne seems a little out of character in this one – it's really hard to write his tender side without straying too far from his core personality. But I did my best! Post BDM, no real strong language or adult themes.

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_**Lightening Crashes**_

Jayne kept his eyes trained on the food before him, stabbing his fork into it with more force than was necessary. He knew they were throwing him glances, which wasn't making him feel any less twitchy. This was supposed to be their gorram vacation time (actually, they were just lying low until a pissed off client stopped hunting for them), enjoying the lovely forests of Verbena, and all the merc could think about was holing himself up in his bunk and riding out this bitch of a storm. It had started within an hour of their landing, at about noon yesterday, and didn't show signs of slowing down. Now, a bit of rain he was prepared to handle. But it was the thunder that was driving him woolly.

It wasn't exactly a manful thing, being scared (no, not _scared_ – bothered) by something as harmless as thunder. But ever since he was a kid, it had just . . . _bothered_ him to no end. Having a crew of slack-jawed ijits staring him down wasn't helping none. Simon was trying to lighten the mood with amusing stories from when he was doctorin' on Osiris, which would have been a good distraction, except for the fact that the gorram fool kept stopping to stare pointedly whenever Jayne happened to tense up for a moment. At least the moonbrain wasn't there. It wouldn't do to have her seein' into his head right at the moment. But she had declined to show up at dinner, saying something about a headache.

"Umm . . . Jayne?" Kaylee ventured, after he dropped his knife for the third time.

"_What?_" he growled, casting her the stink eye. She flinched and then tried to pass it off as nothing.

"Oh, never mind."

"You seem a might troubled," Mal pointed out, ever the observant one. "Is there somethin' needs sayin'?"

"No," Jayne returned icily, "there ain't. Can't a man eat in peace?"

Of course, at that particular moment, a massive roll of thunder sounded overhead, causing him to nearly choke on his food.

"I don't believe it," Simon exclaimed, looking both thrilled and stunned. "You're scared of thunder!"

Before anyone else had a chance to react, Jayne was up on his feet. "You tryin' to start somethin' with me?" he rumbled. But it was too late. Kaylee started squealing while Inara busily tried to hide a growing smile behind her hand. Zoe and Mal just exchanged looks, individual smirks forming on their faces. Simon burst out laughing, hardly able to believe what he had just discovered.

"Gorram it, shut yer pie holes," Jayne commanded, feeling the blood rushing to his face. He hadn't blushed since the girls used to flirt with him as a schoolboy. "I ain't scared o' nothin', _dong ma?_"

"Okay, Jayne," Zoe chuckled, smiling more than she had since before Miranda. "Whatever you say."

"How the hell did we not know this?" Mal queried, addressing the table at large. "I mean, seriously, how long has he been on this boat?"

"Long enough to know how to kick your –"

"But how are you not afraid of explosions or gunfire? Is it just thunder, not loud noises in general?" Simon asked, cutting him off. His initial delight having worn off, he was now peering at Jayne like he was some kind of puzzle that needed solving.

"It ain't none o' yer ruttin' business, you pansified Core brat," the mercenary snapped, grabbing his plate and marching away from the table. They could hear him muttering a wide variety of oaths as he sullenly made his way out the room.

"Want someone to come tuck you in tonight?" Mal called, earning a not-so-muttered curse in reply. "I'm just sayin'!"

"Come on, you shouldn't have teased him," Kaylee admonished them, though she was still fighting back a smile. "And besides, I think it's sweet. Such a big tough guy bein' afraid o' somethin' so silly."

"Kaylee, name one thing in the galaxy that you _don't_ find sweet," Inara challenged, patting the young mechanic's hand.

Jayne was too pissed to simply retreat to his bunk. No, what he needed was to beat the living hell out of something and get out all this pent up frustration and anger. Though he would have liked to smack around a crewmember – either Mal or the doc – he was none too eager to get himself sucked out the airlock as a consequence. Instead he made his way to the cargo hold. Not long ago he'd installed himself a semi-decent punching bag, which at the moment was the next best thing to a smart-mouthed captain or a namby-pamby doctor.

Ten minutes later, sweat-soaked and spent, he took mercy on the punching bag and decided to call it quits. Working out usually relaxed him, but the damn storm outside was determined to keep his nerves hopping. Now all he really wanted to do was get hammered and sleep through the rest of their 'vacation'.

He was heading back towards his room when he heard it. Passing by the crazy girl's room, the distinct sound of sobbing and whimpering that stopped him dead in his tracks. Jayne went and stood closer to the door, which was open just a crack, and peered inside to see River curled up on her bed, rocking back and forward and talking to herself.

"Shhh . . . it's okay," she whispered shakily, hugging her chest. "It's okay, sweetie. Don't be scared. Don't cry." Even through a small crack, he could see her face glistening with tears. Her forehead was creased with the effort of keeping her eyes screwed shut, and she jumped every time the thunder sounded. Jayne was so shocked at seeing her like this that he didn't even flinch himself.

It was the sort of thing one can never unsee or forget, and it would seem shameful even to try. And even though part of him was tempted to just keep on walking by, Jayne knew with a staggering amount of certainty that the image of her this way would haunt him incessantly. Nobody had ever been there to comfort her during a storm. Nobody had ever held her and wiped her tears when she was scared. And the sudden, glaring injustice of it all, the sight of a frightened young girl having to soothe herself during a moment of intense fear, knocked the wind out of Jayne's lungs. For a moment he felt like he couldn't breathe. For a moment he wanted to find her heartless mother and throttle the woman to death for being so cold, so uncaring. He didn't know or care if his instincts were right. No child should be left alone this way. Even a man who relied on tough love as much as he did could see that.

Before he could think of a reason not to, he opened the door all the way and stepped inside without any clear idea of what he intended to have happen. River's head snapped up and she gaped at him for only second before her tongue scrambled to speak.

"Don't tell Simon," she begged, her voice a husky shell of its usual cheer. "He shouldn't worry. Please . . ."

A thunderclap rolled overhead and she bit her lip, ducking her head into her arms. Jayne still couldn't seem to worry about himself long enough to react to the noise.

"You don't think he'd wanna know about his baby sister bein' scared outta her wits?" he asked, taking a few steps towards her.

She shook her head and wiped her face with the back of her arm. "He's happy now. Mustn't ruin it for him. He worked so hard to get me fixed, and if he . . . if I . . ."

"All right, calm down. I won't say nothin'," he said gruffly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"The lightening, it . . . it's like needles. I see it even when my eyes are closed, with a roof over my head. The thunder carries it, searching for me, and I can feel it getting closer every time," she went on, desperate to explain herself. "I don't . . . I don't like needles. But I feel them, behind my eyelids and in my head, and –"

"Now, don't work yerself into a fit," Jayne swiftly broke in, unsure exactly what to do. It was obvious she didn't want anyone to know how far she receded into craziness whenever a storm hit, but he wondered if he was equipped in any way to be of use. Inara, maybe, or even Kaylee would know how to act.

"You are frightened as well," she pointed out, hugging her knees to her chest. "I feel it in you. It's the thunder."

Jayne scratched the back of his neck. "Well I sure as hell ain't no fan of it."

"Then you must understand how it feels, when you don't want people to know you are afraid, that you are weak in any way," she sighed, looking down at her toes. "For so long I was helpless, and now . . . now I have a chance to prove my worth. To prove that I can be more than an inconvenience. I do not wish to burden my brother anymore, or the crew."

He actually knew what she was talking about, and it surprised him that the two of them shared a similar idea. It hadn't occurred to him just how important her independence was to her, after having been deprived of it for as long as she had.

"You know . . . my ma always said the best way to get over a fear is to face it head on. Ya know?" he suggested. "Like, the only thing to fear itself is fear. Or . . . yeah."

Intrigued, River paused her sniffling and processed the words before nodding. "Logical. There is much the human mind can overcome when –" She winced as more thunder tolled, before continuing, " – when it is determined enough." Then realization dawned on her and she went even paler. "You mean . . . ?"

"Yep," Jayne replied, hardly able to believe the words were coming out of his mouth. "We gotta face the storm."

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This was a bad idea. In fact, Jayne was willing to bet that this was just about the worst idea he'd ever had. And the fact that his ideas were usually not idiotic made this one time slip up all the more painful.

The two of them stood on the ramp leading outside the cargo hold, out into the dark misty void beyond, neither willing to take the first step. At some point (he wasn't exactly sure when), her arm found its way around his waist and his was inexplicably around her shoulders. Both were pressed together so hard that they could have passed for Siamese twins at a circus. Jayne was more than a little glad that nobody else was around to seem him like this, clutching River like a gorram security blanket. Weren't manful. But then, he reasoned, he was doing this for her too. It made him feel better to think of himself as _her_ blanket.

"Right. Okay," he heard himself say. "After the next flash, we're moving. Yeah?"

"Yes," she whispered. He glanced down and saw that her eyes were closed again.

"Hey. We gotta do this proper. No hiding," he ordered sternly, giving her a little shake.

"No hiding," she repeated, slowly opening her eyes and revealing fresh tears gathering. She was shaking so bad, it felt like she was about to shatter into hundreds of little pieces.

They waited. When there was an abrupt, blinding streak of light, Jayne took the first long stride forward and dragged the suddenly paralyzed girl with him. She dug her heels into the metal ramp, rigid and seemingly numb with fear, but he forced her along and soon her muscles went limp with resignation. If she'd really wanted to get away from him, she could have easily fought her way out of his grasp.

As soon as the raindrops hit him, the merc felt strangely calm. Like there was no turning back. No sense in being a scared little kid about it if there was nothing he could do but walk forward. The wet grass squelched under his boots, and within seconds both he and his nervous ward were completely soaked. He had thought about them bringing jackets, but it seemed an important thing in his mind to be utterly exposed. No hiding.

_Serenity_ was sitting in the middle of an expansive meadow, a rare piece of wild open space amongst Verbena's thick woods. Jayne pulled her along until they crested a small hill and then stopped, holding her tightly at his side. For a moment they just stood there, heads bowed against the raging downfall, starting every time thunder rolled or lightening flashed. After a while, though, it seemed like River's knees were going to give out, so he lay down on the hilltop and pulled her down with him. She nestled herself as close to him as she possibly could, resting her head on his chest, right over his heart. He slipped an arm around her shoulders and looked up at the darkening sky, blinking through the rain.

"We'll just hang out here for a spell," he said out loud, speaking as much to himself as he was to her. It occurred to him in the back of his mind that the two of them had never really been alone together, much less held each other this way. The last time he'd been this close to her, she'd been trying to yank his balls off at the Maidenhead.

Her hand came up and rested on his chest, close to her face. He felt her tapping out the beat of his heart with her fingertips. _Bump-bump. Bump-bump. _

"You know how I got this scar?" he asked her suddenly, tilting his head so she could see him pointing to the small scar on his face, just under his right cheekbone. She shook her head, peering up at him over the crook of her arm. "Happened when I was just a kid, maybe about seven or eight. I used to have this dog, a big mutt named Buck. My pa gave him to me when I was little, and I raised him up myself. We was like two peas in a pod. Everywhere I went, Buck used to follow me around, waggin' his tail, pleased as punch about everything. He was a happy fella. 'Cept he hated thunderstorms."

A series of near-deafening thunderclaps pealed out above, sending a shockwave of panic through River's body. Her reserve dissolved into a fit of sobs and buried her face into Jayne's shirt, bunching the fabric in her fist so hard she nearly ripped it. He reached up and gently cradled the back of her head, squeezing her around the shoulders with his other arm. It helped him to keep his mind off the way his heart was racing, or the sweat breaking out under the rain pelting his skin. He closed his eyes for a minute before he remembered the 'no hiding' rule and opened them, braving the mercurial skies.

"This one time," he went on, fighting to steady his voice, "we had a real bad storm. Lasted near on two days. Thunder, lightening, wind, flash floods, you name it, we saw it. Buck was gettin' really squirrelly by the second day, so my ma wanted me to tie him up downstairs to keep him away from the little 'uns – by then I had a fair few sibs to mind. So I get some rope and go to drag Buck by the collar, when this big roll o' thunder hits."

The thunder was shortly followed by white-hot streaks of lightening, burning up the whole sky. River screamed and tried to roll away from him, but Jayne saw it coming and threw himself on top of her to get her to lie still. "'S all right, _ni zi_. Nothin' to be scared of," he whispered, refusing to budge even as she kicked and struggled with all her strength. Assassin-trained or not, her tiny little body was no match when trapped under his. He stroked her face as gently as he could, keeping her pinned down with his other arm and a good deal of his body weight. The lightening passed and eventually she went still, staring up at the sky past his shoulder, trembling and wide-eyed, but silent. Jayne scooted off her a bit, but still kept his arms around her.

"So just as I get my fingers around Buck's collar, the thunder hits, scarin' 'im nearly outta his skin. He jumps and bites me right on the face. Right here," he said, gesturing to his scar again. "Nearly took half my face off, but I got fixed up decent enough. Still, my pa was so furious that he dragged Buck outside and shot him right then and there. I didn't want 'im to . . . couldn't really blame the dog . . . but . . ."

"Had to protect the babies," River whispered, leaning her face against his shoulder. "Couldn't risk it happening again."

"Yeah." He paused for a while. "Haven't thought about that in a long time."

"Is that why you're afraid of thunder?" she asked, sounding calmer. He shrugged a little.

"Guess so. Makes sense, don't it?"

"Buck loved you," River sighed, reaching up to lightly run her finger over the scar. "I can see it on you when you talk about him. Still there, after all these years. But he was frightened. It never would have happened otherwise."

There was an odd sensation building in his throat. It felt like he had suddenly swallowed a lump that wouldn't go down all the way, or come back up. He couldn't seem to find his voice. Her hands were cold on his skin, but his face was feeling warmer than it ought to, so he didn't really mind.

"You mentioned needles," he said at long last, finally able to speak around the block in his throat. "Is that . . . like, real needles, or just . . . uh . . ."

"Figurative?" she supplied, dropping her hand back down to his chest. He nodded, assuming it was close to what he had been aiming for. "I'm not sure anymore. But they . . . the doctors at that . . . _place_, they . . ."

Jayne waited, unaware that he was holding his breath. Nobody, not even Simon, had ever heard her speak about the Academy and what went on there. Every time her brother had tried to mention it after he busted her out, she would break down into hysterics and it would take hours to calm her. So he gave up and they all just assumed she would say something when she felt ready.

More lightening cracked overhead, but other than inhaling sharply, she didn't react much.

"They would put needles in us – the other students and myself – to perfect what was not up to initial standards," she told him, sounding lost in the memory. "Muscles flexibility, hormone distribution . . . vision . . ."

Jayne felt his stomach knot unexpectedly. "Those _hun dan_ put needles in yer _eyes?_" he asked, looking down at the top of her head. She nodded against him, and began imitating his heartbeat with her fingertips again. It was beating just a little faster than before.

"Needed to see with perfect clarity. And of all the things they . . . of everything I . . . that was the worst part," she explained with a slight tremour in her voice. "Everything else I could have suffered through in silence, but the eyes. I can still remember how they felt. Like . . ."

" . . . Lightening."

A little whimper escaped her. "Yes. Straight on through to the brain. _Oh, God_ –"

"Y'ain't there anymore, kid," he said gently, feeling like that lump in his throat was turning into bile. Suddenly he remembered back to Ariel, when Simon was explaining to him how them doctors had been cuttin' on her brain. At the time he hadn't really thought much on it – he'd been too distracted with the prospect of a reward – but looking back on it, the idea was revolting to him. Needles, brain surgery, torture . . . to do that to helpless children was beyond his comprehension, and he had seen some pretty twisted things in his time. "Ain't nobody gonna do that to you again. This lightening, out here in the sky, it . . . it's different. Natural. It ain't lookin' to hurt you anymore than a butterfly would. Just is the way it is. Can't help where it strikes."

He knew he was rambling, but with every word he spoke he could feel her relax just a little more. The rain was starting to slacken off a bit, he noticed, and wondered if maybe the storm was finally passing on. He didn't think this harebrained scheme of his would work, really . . . he had only suggested it in the first place to help the kid out. Thought that maybe if they faced it together, they could carry a bit of each other's fear. It had sounded stupid even to his own head, but comforting at the same time. Worth trying, anyway. And now there he was, cradling the ship's crazy little pilot in his arms, lying under the rain and daring the thunder and lightening to come any closer. For the first time in years, he felt suddenly unafraid. And by the way River was now humming to herself, staring across his chest at the trees beyond them, he figured she was too.

"Think we're gonna be okay?" he asked, feeling strangely light.

"We always were," she replied with a slight smile in her voice. "Now . . . now we're just a little better."

He smirked at that and moved to sit up. "Damn straight. Come on, let's head inside. It's cold out here."

She allowed him to pull her up to her feet. "If you're afraid of being cold, we should strap you naked outside during the win –"

"Girl, don't even _think_ about finishing that sentence."

END


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